


Alone in a Crowd

by chocolate_velvet



Series: The Other Name of Love [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dubious consent (implied), Fluff, HTP (mild) (implied), Longing, M/M, Romance, Shower Sex, Tango, sex with multiple partners (implied), unhappy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:19:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7218583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolate_velvet/pseuds/chocolate_velvet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where James Barnes was a famous writer after receiving Orange Award and his book became the New York Bestselling.<br/>Everything was perfect to him. Until one day, he met Steve. Though, the meeting did not take him anywhere physically, this mind had gone to the place he never dreamt of going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day was long and tiresome. James was so relieved when he finished the meeting. At the end of the day, all he wanted was to rest on the couch, doing everything that would not involve thinking.

But Luck was not on his side. Brock wanted to meet him. He was not the type to receive a “no”, beside, Brock was his agent. They would meet at the usual restaurant at 8 pm sharp. James sighed. He did not have much time. He would need Luck to reach the destination on time.

This time Luck was on his side. Brock had not arrived when James reached the restaurant. It was unlikely that Brock was late. James breathed relief. He sat on the table Brock reserved from them.

It was the table with the best view in the restaurant. From there, one can watch everything, including the outside.

It began to rain. That would delay Brock longer. James was unsure whether he need to be happy or upset. The longer he had to wait, the longer the meeting would be. If he could have a choice, he would rather have a quick meeting with Brock. But he had no choice but wait.

His eyes were scanning the area. The restaurant was quite with only a few people. There were two elderly couples sharing a bottle of wine and good conversation. Occasionally, they were laughing quietly. On a table not far from him, seated a young couple, a man and a woman. James was intrigued by their interaction. Both the man and the woman were beautiful. The man had striking physic, but he hid it in the folds on his clothes very well.

What drew Bucky attention was not the man’s appearance but his manner toward the woman. He was so courteous, gentle, and caring. He listened the woman talked about herself while he merely nodded along or gave a few encouraging comment. First, James thought that this man must be in love with the woman but upon closer observation, he did not think so. It was the man’s traits and mannerism.

They caught their glance a few times without being meant to. Both quickly averted their gaze. James spun thousands of possible scenarios of that guy and him when Brock finally arrived. He groaned silently. They ordered quickly. While waiting, Brock kept talking. James felt slightly uneasy. To be honest he never liked Brock. They interacted because of work. Usually, James was professional enough to endure meeting with Brock but not this time. This time, he was distracted.

When their food came, James realized that the man was occasionally stealing glances over him, discreetly watching him as if hinting his interest. James would be lying if he said that the feeling was not mutual. But he could not just drop to that man’s table. It would be disrespectful to the woman, besides, he was in the middle of a business meeting. Not only that would make Brock upset but also it against James’ work ethic.

By the time Brock was talking about the possibility to translate and sell his books abroad, that man already paid the bill and ready to leave. He helped the woman with her seat and coat. A true gentleman, James told to himself. When they left, James felt the utter loneliness he never felt before.

His eyes darted all around the restaurant. He breathed slowly, suppressing the tears suddenly formed at the corner of his eyes as his lips quivered. He quickly excused himself to the mens room.

Once, inside he was beset by loss and loneliness. James felt as if he had had lost somebody really meaningful in his life. This feeling had taken him by surprise. He was caught off guard in the middle of a business meeting. He did not even know that man. Though they never met before, he felt utter devastation when that man left the restaurant.

But, now he longed to meet with that man, to talk to him though they barely know each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his book signing event, James met the man. He is standing in line patiently, just like James' readers.

_“Sorrow is the sea without end. Sorrow knows no boundary. It is longer than time.”_

 

James was sitting by his apartment’s window. His notebook laid open before him, his poem was half finished. His morning coffee was getting cold. He threw his gaze out of the window, searching and hoping. But the crowd promised nothing.

It has been a few weeks after he met the man in the restaurant. After the dinner, he went home and slept it off, hoping he would come to normal in the following morning. But it did not happen.

He woke up emotionally devastated, as if he was ravaged by a sorrowful dream. Yet, he cannot remember his dream.

He started paying closer attention to people around him, hoping he would meet that man again. But hope is a mirage. It appears so real yet easily evaporated into a thin air.

He tilted his head as he heard Brock shouts from the street, “James! Get ready! We need to go the Event.”

“I’m ready!” he shouted back at Brock.

James grabbed a box full of poem cards, his wallet, phone, and set of keys. He quickly made it downstairs. Brock greeted him with a smirk. He took the box with one hand and grabbed James by the neck, leading him to his car. James sat obediently.

As the car moved, he gazed around the scenery. His eyes was still searching among the crowd in the streets. His heart never gave up hope. He even still searching when they arrived at the convention hall.

Brock organized a book signing for him in a book fair, held in a convention hall decorated as a modern library for the event. The idea was that readers can browse on James’ and other author’s books while waiting in line. The event organizer greeted them. She led James to his counter and told him that they would begin shortly. She was friendly and helpful as James was getting himself ready.

James had one of the biggest counter with long queue line. It was a spot that anyone can notice, in turn, James could see people coming toward him.

When they opened the door, there were a few people come to James counter. They chatted with him about his book and asked for his autograph.

Brock scanned the area. He was obsessed with controlling his surrounding. A long line began to form in front of James. They were his readers waiting to get his autograph and taking a picture with him.

The event turned out to be more successful. He had been planning a book signing event, putting James in the spotlight and making his readers to see and  know him in person. Playing with James’ popularity had been his game all along.

When he caught a glimpsed of Pierce, the CEO, he moved toward him.

“Congratulation Rumlow. Barnes is our golden egg.”

“He’s charming between the sheets and he’s a great with his fans.”

Pierce smirked with Brock’s double meaning comment. His gaze was fixed on James, with a gaze of a child hungry for a lollipop. Brock was secretly observing Pierce.

“Don’t you think it’s the time for him to be the most Influential Writer?”

Pierce snapped out of his reverie, “Yes. Absolutely.”

* * *

 

Meeting with his readers lifted James’ spirit somehow. They praised him, encouraged him, and some gave him gifts. He gave back by giving poems, which none of the poem identical from one to the other.

Then, something caught his attention, a man lingering between the book shelves and occasionally gazed toward him. James was about to call Brock but he stopped. He recognised that man. James had met him at the restaurant few weeks ago. Now, that man was standing in line among his readers, holding James latest book. He let others to take his turn, as if purposely waiting to be the last one. James knew it means he wants to talk him in person. James quickly scribbled something on the card, ready to give it to the man. Both of them needed to be patient.

But when he reached the end of the line, he did not see him. James looked around but find no one. Almost all patron had left. Brock approached him, telling him that they were closing. James ran toward the registration table asking them about a tall blonde man in jeans and brown leather jacket but none could remember such man. At last, he turned to Brock.

“I told him to leave because we’re closing.” Brock answered nonchalantly.

James ran into the street, hoping he still could find the man. But the street was crowed with other people but not the man. James asked passerby and received no answers. He felt utterly alone. Once again, he lost that man. His heart began to shatter.

“I thought I found you here.” James heard Brock. He felt the hands griping his neck.

“You can’t just took off like that.” Brock’s voice was gentle but his grip was strong.

“We need to go back. Pierce was going to have a wrap up meeting.”

“Why did to tell the last man to leave?” James asked with frustration in his voice.

“We don’t know how long he has to travel to get here. He may have to take a leave from work. We can't compensate his time.”

“Hey, I said I am sorry, alright. We’re closing and he doesn’t even make a move. I have no choice but to tell him to leave.“

“Don’t you dare to do it again!” James took a deep breath, suppressing his anger.

Brock rose his eyebrow, feeling unthreatened, “Come. We need to come back. There’s a meeting with Pierce.”

“He’s organizing other events for you. He expects you to come.”

Brock was observing closely that James seemed to be lost in space. His eyes was searching around him. This was not the first time Brock sees James so vacant and lost. He knew what to do to bring James back to reality.

“There’re other events. He might be there.”

James looked around him for one last time before he followed Brock.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Do you want to be a lone ghost walking by the sea."_

                                                           Pablo Neruda

 

As James’ manager, Brock took up so many roles. He reviewed and edited James’ draft. When James slipped into his incoherent rambling mood, Brock read James’ diary, trying to find the loosing ends, and rewrote the drafts. After the editor approved the manuscripts, he would organize the nitty gritty of the book with the publishing house, including the  distribution, sales, promotions and events. At the end, he made sure that James got paid, of which he would deduct for his managing service.

James had been very good for years. He was getting more organized, productive, and friendly toward his readers until recently. A few weeks after the book signing event, James told him he did not know what to write next. In a competitive market, their livelihood depended on James’ lucrative creativity. Now, James had no idea.

He decided to move in temporarily. He took care of James, makes sure he presumed routine as usual. He knew how to keep James productive while his mind wandered. On the other hand, James did not say anything. He neither agreed nor disagreed.

One night, after their frantic and brutal lovemaking, he read James’ diary, sorted out his poems, and organized his drafts. This time he did not like what he read.

“Buck! What's wrong with your writings?”

“These are all weepy poems. These can't do. These don't fit to your genre.”

“You’re supposed writing about gripping action thriller books, not some housewife porn. You gotta re-write everything. Pierce isn't going to like reading through these."

Brock received no reply. There is no sound from James. No sign of protest. Only deafening silence.

James was still in bed, clinging to a pillow as if his life hanging on that. His eyes were sad and wandering. His lips quivered.

Brock walked toward the bed. His hand brushed James' hair away from his face. He saw tears pooling on James' eyes.

“Hey... Shhhhh.”

He climbed to bed and put James' head on his chest.

“I'm sorry alright.”

James encircled his arms around Brock and brushed his cheek on Brock's chest. He inhaled the scent.

“Brock, that man in the convention, the one you kicked out when we’re about to close, ...”

James paused. Panic crept in his chest. Brock usually did not like it when he talked about other men. But, it was too late now. James was preparing himself for the blow as he continued.

“I did not see him in other conventions. He did not turn up. I want to see him.”

James expected the caress would turn into a grip, painfully yanking his head. But, Brock’s reaction was something he did not expect. Brock gently caressed James’ face, brushing away the strands of his hair, his thumb lightly pressed on James’ lips but did not pry them open. It was a rare moment of gentleness.

He whispered, "Let’s see what I can do to make it up to you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of longing in the movie "2046" by Wong Kar-Wai. The movie is about lovers encountered each other but never be together. Each of them nurtured longing in their hearts.Whenever they tried to reach each other, there always be something to stop them, either other people or their own weaknesses. Yet, instead of moving on with others, they looked into each other with longing in their hearts.

 

 

 

_"Your love burns like the fiery furnace of Hell._

_The World burns with you._

_But, I perish in the flame."_

 

It was interesting to think about how people left marks on each other. Some had to have intense interactions yet unable to leave prominent marks while the other left marks only by a mere presence. A presence strong enough to throw each other sideways.

Presence that created a deep mark within your soul, like love-making scratch marks. Those were strong markings, which left you winced in pain until a few days forward. Pain that left you wanting for more and without it you felt unfeeling and hollow.

He slightly grimaced as he gingerly shifted his bottom, avoiding more pain. But the pain that was only superficial. Deep inside, he did not feel anything beyond his skin. He was aching for an untold need. It grew became a chasm inside his soul. A hungry chasm that living, breathing and consuming, even the rough and painful love-making could not fill the growing chasm within his heart.

Lost and emptiness echoed in his heart. Between the busy city life below and the hopes hung on starry sky, he belonged to none.

* * *

Brock was looking for James. Dateline was tight. He had finished the final draft and needed James approval before sending it to the editor. He tried to call him first, then he realized that he had James’ mobile with him. When he could not find him in his two-bedroom apartment, he decided to find him in the apartment roof.

He was relieved when he saw James sitting on a soft rug near the water tank. It was his comfort spot. Whenever there was something bothering him, James would always stay there. When it was not raining, Brock brought a rug from downstairs. A few weeks ago, they would have madly making love under the open sky.

Today, James only noticed Brock with the sad look in his face. James mumbled something inaudible. He sat next to James, eyes were observing. James, on the other hands, cast his vacant gaze into the fathomless distance. He looked crushed and empty, like a lonely ghost drifting in the cold sea.  
Brock sighed at the sight of the warm half full glass of beer. His hand reached for James and began caressing his hair. Brock took notice on the greasy texture and noted that he needed to wash it. James nudged his head toward the touch, his cheek on Brock’s palm. He saw Brock sat next to him.

“I finished your draft. You better read it before I send it to Pierce.”

“Dateline is three days from today. You think you can do that?”

“Yeah, I do that.” James answered absentmindedly.

Brock sighed noisily, “What’s so wrong with you? You slacked off. I almost wrote the whole thing for you.”

“Look, Brock, I’m sorry…”

“You better be. This is a job. I need your commitment.”

James did not say anything anymore. He knew it was futile. The faults were stacked against him. He felt his lover’s hands caressing his hair. Sometimes, it was difficult to see whether Brock was really angry or merely showing off. James tried to lean toward his lover but he winced at the pain on his bottom. He heard Brock chuckled, “I thought you like it rough.”

“I do.” James whispered.

“You certainly can’t be helped.” Brock grimaced. He put his arm around James, fingers caressing the marks on James back.

“Look Buck. I need you to look through the draft, make all necessary changes, and finalize it by Wednesday. We’re going to meet Pierce on Thursday night because I want him to read it first. Do you understand me?”

James nodded. It was like he had no other choice.

* * *

James did not finish the draft on Wednesday but he finished it on Thursday afternoon. He lounged on the couch exhausted as Brock went through page by page until he was satisfied.

Before sunset both were ready to meet Pierce at St. Regis Hotel. Brock had disappeared inside. James was waiting for Brock at the entrance. He was standing still, not looking around.

“Bucky!”

James turned to the direction of the voice. His eyes lighted up. A beautiful woman in red hair walked toward him. James walked and his arms extended toward her.

“Nat. How’re you? How long have you been here?”

“Jerk! I’ve been trying to call you! Why you didn’t pick up?”

“I don’t have my mobile with me.”

“Who has your mobile now?”

Just when James was unable to find the right answer, Brock pushed in. He put his arms around James’ waist and pulled him closer. He enjoyed the sight of Nat disapproving look. She never liked him and the feeling was mutual.

"Buck, c’mon. Pierce is expecting us on the second floor. We can’t keep him waiting.” Brock trying to lead James away but Nat did not let her grip go.

“Hey, we’re having a conversation here.” Natasha refused to release James’ hand.

Sensing the tension between them, James turned to Brock and said, “I’ll catch up. It won’t be long.”

“You need to go now!” Brock barked.

James saw the familiar anger flashed on Nat’s eyes. Although she stood firm of the ground, she looked as if she was ready to spring for attacks. James put his arm around Nat.

“I’ll catch up with you later. I gotta go right now. It’s work.”

He saw Nat gaze fixed upon him. He knew she never approved him with Brock. When he about to turn and walk away, Nat slipped something to his hand. He heard her whispering, “This is my mobile. Keep it away from him. I’ll call you.”

* * *

As Bucky let Brock led him into the hotel, he turned his head to look at Natasha and made a mental note to wait for her call. Just as he was about to turn his head back toward Brock, he saw that man again. He was wearing a pair of jeans, t-shirt that was too thin, and a jacket that failed to cover his muscles. James saw that man talked to Natasha and how friendly she was to him. It was the first time since many years when James felt a pang of jealousy. He brushed his eyes and followed Brock.


	5. Chapter 5

James woke up abruptly. First, he woke up by Pierce’s voice, telling that he should return to sleep while Pierce had to leave for a meeting. His voice dark, smooth and velvety, like a demon’s seduction. His hands playing with James’ hair, as if refusing to leave. Second, he woke up as he turned on his favorite position, dreaming on spooning with the blonde man he met at the restaurant. When he realized the absence of the other man’s body, James had returned to sleep. At last, he truly woke up when. The sun peeked through the glass window, barely touched the bed cover. Yet, it warmed his clothes, strewn all over the floor. All parts of his body felt sore. A soft groan escaped from his lips.

Pierce had left early in the morning to catch a meeting in DC. He told James that he could order room service and use the room until noon. But, James hardly wanted anything.

James did not want to do anything. But he heard the mobile rang and he remembered. He jumped out of bed and got Nat’s mobile hidden underneath the bed. But, when he reached it, the ringing died, the caller had left a message.

He flipped the mobile and saw the caller’s ID. It was a call by someone by the name of Steve. James bit his lips and retrieved the message.

“Hey, Nat, just checking. I hope you’re alright. You looked angry last night. Drop me a line, if you aren’t too angry."

The voice was deep and manly but somehow airy and friendly. James played the message for several times. It could be the voice of that man. This was the first since many months that he could hear the man’s voice. It had been running in his head of how their conversation could be.

James looked at the clock, Brock could show up in any minute. He usually came before noon. James looked around searching the spot where he could hide the mobile.

* * *

James heard the door clicked open. He sighed heavily. Brock peeked into the shower. His hand reached for James’ neck and pulled him for a kiss.

“You’re in a good mood. Should I join in?”

James shook his head, “No. I’m almost finished. You bring my change? And my diary?”

“I do. I put them on the bed.”

James finished his shower and stepped into the bedroom. Brock took a towel and began to dry him as James was standing as if he was waiting orders.

“You think I’m your fuckin’ butler?” Brock smirked.

“I thought you like dressing me up.” James retorted.

Brock threw him the towel and walked out the door. I’ll wait you at the restaurant. Don’t be long.”

“I won’t.” James answered as he heard the door closed. He quickly dressed up. Before heading toward the door, he took the mobile, neatly wrapped, from the waste bin. He opened the wrapping and slipping it in his pocket. He walked out of the room with a renewed sense of happiness.

* * *

Natasha did not call but she texted him, giving him the details on the exhibition. It was her nature to be able to read situation and adjust quickly and effortlessly. Over years, she had been getting more skillful and it was something James marveled about her.

Brock had left for a Friday night outing with his friends. After arduous event at St. Regis Hotel, he let James to enjoy a quite peaceful rest.

But James was going to go to the exhibition. He wanted to meet Natasha and moreover that man would be there.

When he arrived, there was a loud group of crowd. James could not understand why they were loitering in the exhibition hall. His mobile was ringing but he could not reach it, the crowd was shoving him and he needed to busted them to avoid being pushed around.

James was busy tackling the crowd that he did not realized he almost bumped into a tall man standing nearby.

“You've got my friend's mobile.” The man told him.

James turned his attention to the man. Both of them were looking at each other. After months of longing, James finally met Steve. His heart was racing and his emotion was doing somersault in his stomach. He tried to breath deeply and slowly. He realized it was a tremendous effort to appear calm and collected.


	6. Chapter 6

“But, Love, I have been burned since we met.”  
“There’s no escape for this Hellish fire called Love.”

 

* * *

 

The noise of the crowds slowly fades into background as James standing face to face in front of Steve. He stared at the man and noticed the man's warmth, radiating from his body, and the breath, of his chest raised and fell. He wanted to throw himself but he managed to refrain. His hand gripped Nat's mobile tighter. He felt he had found or, rather, he had been found. Nothing really matter to him but the man standing in front of him.

James shook his head, silently cursing his silliness. He pulled himself back into reality as his lips quivered a little when he tried to form a sentence. He tried to talk more but words had left him. He stood frozen in front of the man he had been longing for. Then, he realized that same thing happened to the man in front of him. That man was standing dumbfounded in front of him.

“James Barnes.” at the end he decided to introduce himself, “But my friends called me ‘Bucky’.”

“Steve Rogers, By the way, I read your books. I even went to the book signing event.”

James sighed noisily. “Look, I'm sorry about what had happened in the event. I told my manager not to do it again.”

No. It doesn't matter. I met you today.”

“So, is it the exhibition for your arts?” James asked.

“No. This one is my friends.”

"My arts is in my studio, waiting for the next exhibition."he added.

“Well, are we going to stay here or shall we go to your studio?” James blurted out. He was surprised himself, usually he was guarded.

Steve looked at him and he smiled, light pinkish bloomed on his cheeks.

“Well, I don't usually give preview to everybody.”

“I'm not everybody.”

“You know what? I might show it to you.”

James was surprised on how everything turned to. He never planned any of this though he had been thinking how he would approach Steve once they met. But none of his plan had turned out. It turned out better for both of them.

 

* * *

 

Steve’s studio was not far from the exhibition, it took around 15 minutes bike ride. When they arrived, Steve could not hide his excitement. He quickly turned in the lights as he talked about his arts. His eyes were beaming and he talked rapidly. James softly chuckled;apparently Steve was as nervous as he was. He wanted Steve to relax and he wanted himself to relax, too. He pat Steve on the shoulder, “You’ve got some beer?”

“Yeah. Let me get it for you.” Steve rushed into another corner.

James was looking around. It was an ordinary studio. There were art props, art supplies and a cot.

“You often have to stay here?” James asked.

“Yeah,” Steve shouted from the pantry, “sometime, I need to feel the vibes.”

“You can look around. This place is yours.” Steve added.

James smiled. Steve was pretty organized. Finished works were grouped and neatly covered with wide fabric on one corner, and the WIPs were propped and also neatly covered, ready for working. He peeked at the works until he stopped in front of one. He stood speechless.

Steve returned with two cans of beer and gave James one. He stood next to James, “What do you think?” Steve asked.

“It felt like reading my own book through different perspective.” James answered.

Steve smiled, "That one is inspired by your third book. The soldier, though not the main character, left out so much impression to me. There was so many contradictions around him. He was a human being but his actions projected such machinery tenacity. He had been loyal yet he ran away from his unit to retrieve something personal to him."

"James gulped the beer noisily. He turned and whispered to Steve, That soldier has lost all of his memory. He doesn’t even know who he is, apart from what others told him.”

Steve smiled, “Well, he remembers bit and pieces. That’s why he ran away. But, I think he his main reason was that he wanted to be found by the man he met on the bridge.”

James blinked in astonishment, “That part is in the footnote.”

As if he just won something, Steve turned to James, “I read everything in your book.”

“Bookworm.” James said as he drank the last gulp, “You understand my book. It’s made me feel naked.”

Steve laughed heartily. He must have felt the color on his cheek that he turned toward the fridge to hide it.

“Hey, I’m out beer. You want to go out or something?”

“I’m famished actually.”

“I just know the right place,” Steve replied.

* * *

The place was a chick Argentinian restaurant where Steve was a regular. Everybody there greeted him like friends, he casually chatted with them before sitting at our table. James was not familiar with the cuisine and let Steve took care of it.

James looked around. The restaurant was sparse but warm. Most of the patron were couples. In the middle of the restaurant, there was a dancing place. The band played mostly Latin music.

“Don’t worry. This is a safe place,” Steve assured him, “All of them are pretty supportive.”

“You come here often?”

“Sometimes Nat and I had dinner here.” Steve answered met with James’ thinning lips. He quickly added, “Not like what you think. We’re good friends.”

“By the way, where you came from?” Steve changed the topic. He nodded to thank the waiter who bring their food.

“Brooklyn.”

“I thought you were from Russia.”

James shrugged it off, “Well, I speak the language. I went there to dance.”

“It was Bolshoi, right.”

“Yeah, did Nat told you?”

"No. I was just second guessing. Nat is still with Bolshoi.”

“Yeah, she told me.”

Steve watched James closely. He wanted to ask the question but he was unsure. James looked back at him. Blue eyes meat blue-green. He tilted his head slightly.

“You want to know whether Nat and I are together.”

Steve laughed. He put his finger on his temple and shook his head.

“How do you know that.”

“Second guessing.” James answered nonchalantly as he scooped his meal.

Steve laughter returned.

“Well, We used to be together but not anymore. Well, enough about me. How about you? I know you’re an artist. Are you married?”

Steve chuckled, “Nope. I’m single.” Steve carefully peeked into James eyes and rewarded with delighted shining eyes. James was expecting that answer, Steve thought.

Their meals were finished. The waiter came to clear the table.

“Shall I get you guys some desserts?” he offered. 

Steve looked at James who quickly shook his head, “No. But coffee, for both of us.”

“Certainly. Tonight is Tango Night. Do you want me to pass your request to the musician?” 

Steve’s eyes were gleaming with delight.

“Do you dance tango? I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Yes. Just don’t drop me on the dance floor.” James whispered as he sipped his coffee.

Steve gave a fake offended expression, “I never drop my partner on the dance floor.”

James chuckled at this answer, as if he was expecting it.

Steve took James’ hand as they walked to the dance floor and waited for the music to begin. They looked at each other and realized that it was the first time they had the leisure to look at each other at a close distance. The violinist started with a sharp note common for tango, a signal for them to begin. Steve put his hand on James’ back, James’s hand on Steve’s back, and our free hands met. Together, they danced to the music, their feet in perfect sync to the beating of their hearts. Both of them were tall and muscular but their movements were gentle and light. As the song progressed both of them felt more relaxed, and allowed them to smile at each other.

Steve guided James across the dance floor. He kept his eyes on James, yet still, he knew exactly where to take the other man. Every moment, every angle seemed to be planned in advanced. James allowed Steve to take him anywhere on this dance floor. They became one with the song, with the dance and with each other. Steve was slightly cautious, like he wanted to be perfect. James, on the other hand, are more free and flirtatious.

As the music grew sharper and more dramatic, James grew bolder. He took daring turns and twist, seductive and suggestive. The warmth between them grew more inviting. James dragged his toe on Steve’s calf and hooked his leg on Steve’s hip, pulling them closer. Their chests and groins brushed and The slick sweat glided down their skin. Steve’s hold became tighter. He noticed James licking his plump lips and the perspiration on his body glistened, making his skin glowed. He heard James whispered with the voice that sent thrills through his body, “Can you lift me up?” Steve sucked the air harder. He lifted James and both spun around. As James’ body slithered against his, their taunt nipples brushed. Both of them were lost in each other.

“Let’s take this somewhere else.” James voice resounded raspy and inviting.

Steve quickly paid for their meals and prepared to leave.

He whispered as he turned to James, “Let’s go.”


	7. Chapter 7

They left the restaurant walking hand in hand. James brushed his chest on Steve’s arm.

“This is weird. It feels like I’ve known you before.” James intimated.

“Possibly. I’m from Brooklyn, too.” Steve confessed. Both of them looked at each other.

“Did we know each other before? I don’t remember knowing you.” James responded.

“I lost my memory after I got accident.” he added.

Steve looked at James, “How much you remembered?”

“When I woke up at the hospital, none. It slowly comes back. But, only bits and pieces.”

James wanted to continue but he recognised the dread in Steve’s eyes and his heart sank. After all, who wants a man with broken soul. Brock has been right. Once they know his story, nobody wants him.

“You’re a beautiful disaster.” Pierce told him over and over again.

Both Brock and Pierce might like him broken, a beautiful disaster. But Steve was not the same.

When he realised that he could lost the man in front of him, his heart was shattered. He had been waiting for this moment yet he felt it slipping away. James breathed deeply, tears pooling in his eyes. He pressed the back of his hands on his nose.

“Hope is a mirage. It appears so real yet easily evaporated into a thin air.”, James said to himself.

“Buck, are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” James lied. He covered his eyes quickly as he hoped that the night hid his tears.

“Buck, are you alright? We aren’t far from my apartment.” Steve sounded worried.

“Yeah. I alright.” James insisted. “I think I should be going back. Thanks for the dinner.”

“But I thought we’re going to my apartment.”

Steve sounded like a lost puppy. James wanted to turn back and told him that he was coming. But, again, who wants a broken man.”

“I’ve changed my mind.” James hated his voice. It sounded wrong, like fake ads on a broken radio-desperate to convince people with lies.

“Is it something I do? Have I hurt you?” Steve started to sound desperate. It hurt James even more. He wished he were not broken, so they could be together. He walked faster, hands on his pockets, and eyes looked on the ground, defeated.

“Without you, I’m the lone ghost in the lone ghost walking by the sea, blowing his pointless, disheartened instrument.” James whispered to himself.

James kept his eyes downcast. He walked faster, away from Steve, from hope, love, and home.  
He heard Steve footsteps following him and he felt divided, a part of him told him to get away as fast as he could but the other part secretly wished that Steve would never leave him. James went on until he could not hear Steve’s footsteps. He felt sharp pain piercing his heart. There was no refuge or consolation for him. Once he arrived home, there would more to deal with. The only comfort he was the long lonely ride back home.

Arrived at the train station, James was fumbled on his pocket and realised that he did not bring his wallet and only had a one way ticket that had been used. James sighed, he got used to Brock taking care of him. This was the first time since many months of him travelling alone. How he is going back home? There were two ways: he could ring Pierce and the later would send him a car or call Brock and got scolded for leaving home alone.

None of the option was attractive for him. He knew he only had those two choices but he had no intention to do it. He sat on the floor until a janitor told him that the station was about to close and he had to leave. Leave? To where?

James walked toward the park. His thought was all over himself. If he were honest to himself, he would admit that he did not want to go home. He wanted to leave the life he had behind, just like the Soldier-to trust the Night and search for what he had lost. If he could find it, he might be able to return to the only man dearest to him. James sighed as he sat on a bench in the park. The night was exceptionally bright, the Moon was full.

He realised the bench creaked upon another weight. He turned his head and saw Steve, sitting next to him like a piece of stubborn rock.

“Hey, I don’t need a chaperon.” James barked.

“You better deal with that yourself because I’m not leaving.” Steve replied, “This is a public property.”

“Has anyone ever taught you how to move on?”

“Lots of them, until they all got tired of me and started to move on.” Steve retorted.

James shook his head in disbelief. He was partially annoyed, but deep down, he was relieved. Steve was not discouraged by his shortcomings. “May be there is a hope,” James told to himself.

He heard paper crumpled and Steve pushed a bottle of wine toward him.

“Left over from the restaurant.” he said.

“You drink wine straight from the bottle?! Sure, your manner is a suprise.”

After Steve took a swing from the bottle, he looked at James.

“Well, I have many surprising things. In case you’re interested to find out.”

There it was, under the moonlight, James could see Steve blushing as he was offering himself. To James, Steve was the most beautiful person in the universe, but not for the good bone structure or hair, his muscular body or perfectly round and perky butt.

James needed courage and he took a swing from the bottle. He gulped noisily before handed the bottle back to Steve.

“I lost most of my memories. Until now, what I remembered are only bits and pieces. Apart from what others told me a lot about who I was, before the accident, I don’t know who I am.”

James saw the smile disappeared from James’ face. He put the bottle aside.

“This is it,” James thought, “This is the chance if you want to run away.”

“What accident was it?”

“Train accident,” James answered, “Don’t ask more because I don’t remember.”

“Does it still hurt?” Steve asked but James was unsure whether he meant his left arm or something else.

“My arm doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“No. I mean here, inside you.” Steve corrected as he pressed his hand on James chest.

James felt as if his heart about to burst out. He felt Steve warm breath against his face. He saw Steve’s face, getting closer to his and his word had lost chance to be spoken as their lips met. It was a shy chase kiss first until both were sure the feeling was mutual. From then on, the kiss grew fierce and passionate. Soon, they fell to the ground, wresting with their unsatiated desire. Both of them grew bolder and hungrier once they were inside Steve’s apartment.

Their lovemaking felt similar to their dancing, James was more playful and adventurous while Steve was more steady but ready to explore new things. Both were compatible. If Steve went on hard, it was neither rough nor forceful. When James wanted it to be slow, they went on gentle and caring. Both were ready to give and receive, to please and be pleased. It was gentle and loving, except when James suggested new positions. When it failed, both of them fell down to the floor, they laughed heartily. Steve ran his fingers over James’ hair.

“Just tell me if you want another round.” James suggested playfully.

Steve chuckled, "How about cuddling?"

James reached for Steve, pulling him into the warm embrace and Steve nestled comfortably. Their glowing bodies pressed against each other. The warmth between them was growing as their feelings toward each other. James buried his face on Steve's hair. Steve softly chuckled.

"Hug me back or give me another round, you punk." James softly bit Steve's ear.

Steve wrestled his lover, pinning him underneath. James had given out a bedazzled expression before he grinned.

"You learned fast. Now, hug me."

Steve softly whispered, "Jerk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who has been giving comments, kudos, and reading. Thank you so much for your support. Alone in Crowd is an experimental fics. 
> 
> This chapter is kinda scary to write. There is the bed scene, I have been avoiding to write since the beginning of this fics, until up to one point that the plot can't move on without the bed scene. The reason is that I don't want to write the scene similar to the Nocturne Series or Draft #14. Stucky has different dynamic. It has long history, mostly sad history. That is why it need to be written differently. So, I'm experimenting different style. I like it. But, I don't know whether it works.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. Drop your comments on the comment box. It's OK if you compared this to the Nocturne Series or Draft #14


	8. Chapter 8

“When we first met, you tasted like red wine

Lips burned.

Now, you taste like bread.

I hardly taste you but I’m completely nourished.”

* * *

 

James woke up twice. First, he woke up abruptly from a violent dream he could not remember. He trashed in bed until he could open his eyes. As he laid sweating and trembling, he saw Steve pulling him into his embrace and whispering endearments. James thought he had awakened Steve but he realized that Steve hugged him in his sleep. So, he allowed himself to indulge in the warm and fuzzy embrace.

Second, James woke up by a warm and delicious smell of freshly cooked breakfast. He opened his eyes and rolled on the bed, damped from their perspiration last night, and remembered. But there was only him in the bed. When he was about to find Steve, the door opened with Steve carrying a breakfast tray. The aroma of steaming food and coffee filled the room. 

“Breakfast in bed! I don’t know what you eat but I hope you like what I cooked for you.” Steve beamed. He sat on the bed and set the tray in front of James. The tray was laden with multi-grain cereal, eggs, fruits, yogurt, milk, and freshly squeezed orange juice.

James smiled. He reached for Steve and kissed him lightly. 

“I like breakfast in bed,” He forked his eggs, ”If I don’t like what you cooked, I can always eat you.”

Steve sipped his coffee slowly, trying to hide his blushing.  

“How was it? Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Why? You want to plan your next invasion?” James replied nonchalantly as he licked his sausages.

Steve gulped his coffee noisily. Throughout his adulthood, he had experienced a lot of people flirted with him. Some flirted discreetly while others openly. To certain point, he got used to it. But with James, it was different. James’ flirtation did not make him uncomfortable. It touched the deepest layer of his desire, buried and violently repressed. James had awakened his desire and his desire woke up hungry. 

Steve took the tray and moved it to the floor while James had rescued a glass of orange juice and emptied quickly. The glass rolled on the floor as both men tumbled down the bed, locked in a mock wrestling, trying to pin each other. But they were almost as strong, both ended laying next to each other.

James chuckled merrily. He could not remember last time he was as happy as today. His fingers trailed on Steve’s face, his lips whispered his lover’s name.

“You’re hard. I hope you still have more condoms because I'd finished mine.” James said playfully. 

“There’s another box in the nightstand’s drawer.” Steve chuckled. Gently, he caressed James’ face. His index finger trailed on James’ lips, until James parted his lips and licked the finger. Steve trembled in delight while James hands slithered downward;silky touch on the warm hard prick.

“You’re still hard.” he teased. His warm fingers slowly stroking and his thumb pressed against the tip. Steve’s moans were silenced with a deep kiss. His hands entangled on James back, desperately clinging but careful not to create more wounds. In between stokes, Steve cried for his lover’s name. James tucked his face in Steve’s neck. If he were allowed to make wish, he would wish that they remained together. 

 

* * *

 

James stood under the shower. His wounds sting but he kept rubbing them, trying to remove the remaining feelings. He heard Steve’s voice and it stopped him. He saw his lover’s face peeked to the shower room. 

“Buck, you can wear my clothes, if you want.”

James turned around, his eyes gazed toward the clock in the bedroom. There were a lot of things he wanted to do with Steve. He wished had another day. He reached for Steve, pulling him toward the shower. 

“I just had shower.” Steve chuckled. 

“But not with me.” James teased. He helped Steve to remove his clothes. 

The warm water was running, fog cloud the glass and the mirror. They stood for a while facing each other. Steve told that James looked like he was crying, the water running down his face. James replied that his tears probably taste soapy, as he reached out and put a hand on each of Steve’s chests, holding the nipples between two fingers. He felt Steve breathed shallow and rapidly. The heart beat like a war drum on James’ palm. He put his ear on Steve’s left chest and his hand on Steve’s right chest. Steve gently embraced him, tucking his face on James’ neck. Then he lathered James all over, slowly, using the whole soap bar, his ears and neck, toes, ankles, and knees. James turned around, facing the wall while Steve moved even more gentle on James’ back, marred with crisscrossing healing wounds. Steve’s hands lingered between James’ legs, where the hair started to grow back. James was slick to hold. Steve did not rinse him before pushing his prick in. The sting of the soap made them open their eyes.

 

* * *

 

The day flew by swiftly.  Both of them only emerged outside the bedroom after sunset. After dinner, Steve offered to take James home. James was at the point ready to follow Steve anywhere. When they arrived at James apartment, none of them were ready to be apart from each other. So, they walked around the blocks. Their skin glowed and hands interlocked. 

Just a block away from James apartment, a black vans passed them aggressively. They pulled over and blocked the road ahead them, preventing them from moving forward. 

Steve felt James tensed up. He had squeezed Steve's hand before released it. Steve was curious of the cause of his demise.

Three men jumped out of the van and walked toward them. James stood frozen on the ground, fear and sadness in his eyes.

Sensing troubles, Steve moved forward, standing in front of James.

“Hey! You guys need anything!” He said sternly.

Those men stopped, looked at each other, and laughed. They moved forward and only stopped when they were within an arm length distance. They exchanged sneering look.

“Enjoying your night out with your new boyfriend?” one of them shouted. 

"He is not my boyfriend, Brock" Steve heard James shouted. His voice was troubled with a hint of sadness.

“Oh! Why is he trying to protect you.” Brock sneered.

Bucky moved and stood in front of Steve. 

“What’s wrong with you, Brock? This is my day off. I’m having a night out with a friend.”

“Your friend?! It does not look convincing to me.”

“You better leave us alone.” Steve said.

“No, Steve.” James prevented him, “Please, let me handle this.”

Steve did not like the way that man smiled and he did not like how distressed James sounded.

“Aww, Look, he’s trying to back you up.” Brock told James. His voice was raspy, creepy enough that Steve felt the hair on his neck raised.

“Leave him out of this.” James hissed.

Brock cocked his head. His mouth crooked in mocking sneer.

"Oh! Are you going to tell me there's nothing going on between you two?"

He stood closed enough to start sniffing.

“You smell sweet, Buck, like someone in post-coital bliss. And these aren’t your clothes. Are these his?” Brock mocked.

“That’s none of your business.” James replied. His breath was short and rapid.

“I tell you, Pierce won't be happy once he finds out.” Brock continued.

“Hey, that's none of your business.” Steve defended.

Brock ignored Steve completely. His hand reached Bucky's head and play with the hair.

“Your smell really sweet, like mint and vanilla. I miss this smell.”

“Look, Buck, Pierce isn't going to be happy when he hears about this.” Brock caressing fingers turn to tightening grip as he pulled James closer. His face buried in James’ hair, smelling. 

“Pierce won't be happy,” he repeated himself, "Unless he does not know.

To Steve's surprise, James did not do anything. He felt an unfamiliar feeling of blinding anger and a rush of jealousy.

"Hey! Don't touch him!" He shouted.

Brock threw his gaze toward Steve, "So, you're jealous."

“Don't treat him like that!” Steve shouted louder. 

“Hey! Go get yourself another boyfriend. This one is taken.” Brock sneered, “Not by one, but two.” 

The other two men were laughing. Steve was at the point of blinding rage. His fist hit Brock, sending him sideways. The other men came and attacked Steve. They were, too, sent sideways. Steve stood with anger and jealousy boiling in his blood. He hardly felt this angry before. 

He turned toward James. How surprised he was seeing James remained standing as if he was waiting for orders. He took James’ hand.

“C’mon Buck. Let’s return to my place.”

Steve was so sure that James would come with him but he felt how James not moving with him.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t.” James said.

“Buck, you can’t be with those people.”

James shook his head sadly. “I can’t be with you either.”

Steve was shocked. His face gave out an expression of agony. But, soon, it changed.

“Yes. You can leave them, Buck,” he assured, “You have choices.”

“Buck, I don’t know what those men to you but they don’t respect you.”

James sighed. Brock sneered. He gripped James' wrist, pulling him away from Steve. 

“Come. We'll take care of you.” Brock sneered. Steve felt James' grip loosened. His grip tightened, trying to pull James toward him.

"Steve. No. Please don't. I have to go." James’ voice was broken. 

“Buck! I'm not going to let them go.” Steve sternly.

James turned his head toward Brock, “Give me a minute.”  Without waiting for Brock, he turned toward Steve, leading him to a corner in a street, away from Brock and the rest of the group.

"Steve, I have to go but never let me go. Take my notebook. Hide it from those men. You must find me."James slipped a small black notebook on Steve’s jacket.

“I have to go now.” 

“Just kiss him good bye and leave him.” Brock shouted. 

James turned and walked toward Brock but Steve refused to let go. He followed James and their hands interlocked. Ivanov nudged Brock, pointing out Steve’s still holding James’ hand. 

Brock grabbed James’ neck, pulling him harshly. He pressed his lips to James’ ears, whispering words others could not hear.

"I don't belong to you, Brock!" 

The fingers around James neck tightened, he eyed James from head to toe, hungry-like a child in front of an ice cream parlour.

"No, you don't. You belong to Pierce."

Steve saw the horror, James’ expression changed. Gone was the glittering shines from his eyes and his playful, slightly flirtatious expression. His expression became blank and his gaze empty. He turned to be a ghost. 

"Come. It's time to come home."

James yanked his hand from Steve’s grip and walked to the van, followed with other men. He closed the door as if they never know each other.


	9. Epilogue

“If I could choose, I’d rather perish in your flame than live an empty lie.”

 

* * *

 

It was a cloudy day, a gush of wind carried the promise of rain. The scent of water seeped through the room, the freshness caressed Steve’s neck as he was sitting by the window. His sketchbook laid next to James’ notebook and his coffee had turned cold. He looked at the people on the street, walking in hurry. Fingers curled on the cool mug, seeking warmth that no longer there. His gaze was pondering around the room, feeling the familiarity of his surrounding. He had been living in James’ apartment for weeks. Steve also found other notebooks hidden around the apartment.

When James gave his notebook, the key was hidden inside its inner pocket. He expected James return. However, James did not show up, neither did the men who picked him up. 

On the second day of his stay, Steve began drawing. He used his simple sketchpad and charcoals. When they ran out, he brought art supply from his studio. He sold none of his arts he did during his stay. He put them around James’ apartment. Sharon insisted to sell them, telling him the value of his arts. But, to Steve, his arts belonged to James. Somehow her failure to understand, saddened him. Slowly, they grew apart. With Nat already returned to Moscow, he was left in his solitary.

Yet, he had more time reading James’ notebook. It brought mixed feelings but helped him to know James better. Some of the notes scribbled there was concise and clear while the rest were jumbled with crossed passages. It seemed James was in sexual relationship with several men though it was not clear whether he gave his consent or not. Though he did not mention any name, Steve had a rough guess who they were. He kept mentioning that he wanted to break away but circumstances always brought him back to those men. 

Steve found out that James wrote when James and him met at the restaurant. James narrated in astonishing details but that was not the case. At the end of the passage, he wrote that he was scared of the day he would forget the event. Steve sipped his coffee, it was cold. 

Before leaving for Moscow, Nat told him about James. As James had told him, both James and Natasha used to be together when they danced for Bolshoi. They were quite popular, beautiful in their looks and graceful in their dances, and audience loved them. But one day, James was missing. He did not return to their apartment and come for the company’s rehearsals and sessions. He was last seen in front of Erika’s Pub, waiting for a cab after celebrating a friend’s birthday. Some saw him got in a cab but he never arrived home. Nat pulled out her best tough appearance but inside she was devastated. His colleagues speculated it could be the government or the mafia but who would kidnap a ballet dancer. They guessed it must be his crazy fans.  

After missing for more than two years, Nat received a call from the police, telling her that James was in the hospital. But when she met him at the hospital, it was not the same James she used to know, it was somebody else. James did not remember anything, even his own name. His left arm was replaced by a prosthetic arm. Sitting beside his bed was a man called Brock Rumlow. He claimed that he was the one who found James laying unconscious on a street and brought him to the hospital. 

Natasha took James back to their apartment but less than two weeks later, he moved out without explanations. He left Bolshoi and turned down a teaching position in the ballet company. He became more withdrawn, cutting off his old friends, growing distance with Nat yet Brock hardly left his side. One day, he told Nat that he was leaving for States. Her disagreements met his indifference.  From time to time, they kept contact but Brock always pulled them apart. Nat encouraged Steve to find him.

The doorbell rang. It was the delivery guy. Steve said he did not order anything but the guy insisted. He said the order was already paid by Sharon Carter. Steve sighed as he took the delivery and made a mental note to call her later today. 

Steve may not be a genius but he knows how to read between the lines.

James’ new book released was delayed. It was rumored that James made substantial changes with the content on the last minute. It was also said that there were many disagreements between James and his publisher. This resulted James would take a break from writing. 

Steve might not be a genius but he knew how to read between the lines. When James’ new book was released, Steve knew where to find him. This time he did not wait in line for James’ signature, he wanted more than a signature. He knew that James has left the States. This time, Brock does not come with him. Steve packed and ready to go. He told Tony he is off to work for his new paintings. Tony retorted that Steve was always been a terrible liar.

His search took him to Prague where he found another clue that led him to Budapest. When money was tight, he sold his sketch or did some odd jobs. It was not an easy life but there was no life without James.

It was his third week stay in Budapest. Steve worked as a bouncer. A regular local bar located in the middle of ethnic cafes and an art cinema. The patrons were mostly local indie artisans, regulars to the bar. It did not take long for them to know Steve, the American guy who spoke French. 

The crowd was less than the night before. They were more behaving, too. Steve’s eyes were wondering around the area. The night was brightly lit by the full moon. There Steve saw him, sitting at one of those late night cafe. 

It felt like a dream;the late night cafe and James writing under the full moon. This scene felt familiar. How many times Steve has dreamed about this? Didn’t he sketched this scene back in Brooklyn?

Steve told his colleague he would take a break. Quickly, he walked toward the cafe. James was sitting with his back facing Steve. When they were about an arm length distance, Steve stopped. He heard James is mumbling words in Russian. Panic spiraled inside him but he knew how to calm his nerve.

“Bucky.” his voice gentle and confident. It vibrated through the night, dragging the dream into reality. 

James turned around. Under the moonlight, Steve saw longing in James’ watery eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I finished this work \^o^/
> 
> Thank you so much for all of my readers, especially flyingmax and waiod_64. You guys are awesomely encouraging.   
> I didn't think I could finish this without your encouragements.
> 
> I'm working on a new Stucky fics, influenced by Del Toro's "The Orphanage" and Allende's "Haunted Mansion".


End file.
